Old Sins
by Lucinda
Summary: Ororo and Remy have a talk that starts out with relationships and wanders into the past. Single-shot, not Ororo/Remy.


Author: Lucinda

Rated t for teen

main characters: Ororo (Storm) and Remy (Gabmit)

Disclaimer: Anyone you recognize does not belong to me, they belong to Stan Lee & Marvel Comics.

Distribution: by permission.

Notes: set in Remy's early time at the X-mansion.

"Remy, I'm worried about you," her voice was soft as Ororo moved towards the man who had become a brother to her.

"Dat makes you de only one here who do dat," his accented voice came from a tree that grew beside the lake. "How you find Remy anyhow, Stormy?"

"Haven't I asked you not to use that ridiculous nickname?" she sighed, looking up at the cajun.

"Oui," there was no repentance in his voice. The branches rustled, and Remy was dangling head down near her, almost able to look her in the eyes. "But if Remy don' call you dat, who else got a nickname dey use for you?"

"I do not have..." She paused, and then murmured, "Only Logan, and he calls me Ro."

"Everybody else call you Storm, call you Ororo, use this an' dat for you. Dey treat you like a dignified leader, or like a real person? Dere be anybody else here who let you be a person instead of a leader, or a goddess?"

Part of Ororo wanted to protest, to insist that she had friends here, that they were a family. To claim Jean and Betsy and Rogue as dear friends, to claim Kitty and Rhane and Danielle and Illyana as her students, as close as nieces. Except that she knew better. There were days when she felt like she could call Betsy a friend, but the British telepath was as good at controlling herself and her emotions as Storm. She wanted to claim Kitty, but that was a combination of a student and a bit of hero-worship, though that was slightly more pleasant than someone thinking her descended from the heavens because she could bring rain. "Perhaps Betsy, in some ways Kitty..."

"Anyone else?" Remy's voice was soft, as light as fingers over a pressure sensor.

"Logan doesn't treat anyone with a great deal of dignity, and I'm not sure that he would treat a god with the respect generally accorded to one, let alone myself," she managed a thin smile at the idea of Logan confronted with one of the gods of Egypt. She couldn't decide if he'd end up in a brawl or offer them a beer and a cigar.

Remy chuckled, "You got a point dere, Stormy."

"Have you been cooking again?" she asked, considering the scent of spices that hung over Remy.

"Few t'ings," he admitted. For a few moments, he considered her before asking, "Why you concerned for Remy?"

"Rogue," she let that one word answer. It saved time instead of asking why he was chasing that woman, why someone who'd done so many dangerous things, someone who had no control over one of the most dangerous powers that she could imagine, why someone who rejected him and gave such insults. Kept her from failing to find a polite way of asking what was so appealing about the other woman.

"What 'bout her?" he reached over, tugging at her hair. "Maybe a bit more specific, hmm?"

"Granted that she is of a reasonably attractive appearance, but why her?" the words poured out, tact be damned. "Why someone who constantly pushes you away, someone who refuses to share anything about herself, someone who could kill you or worse with just a touch? Why chase someone who makes you so miserable?"

Remy sighed, and then flipped out of the tree, his worn jeans and tattered shirt carrying shreds of bark and bits of leaves. "Maybe Remy don' deserve to be happy? Remy done bad t'ings in de past, Stormy. T'ings dat be so awful… you'd hate Remy if you knew…"

"Remy, you are my friend, my brother. I couldn't hate you," she reached out, her hands catching his shoulders as she pulled him into a hug. "You deserve to be happy, whatever it is that you may have done or been caught up in before… it is over."

"Remy not jus' talkin' 'bout stealin' t'ings," he whispered, his accent growing thicker. "It started when Remy was younger, when dese abilities first started showin' up."

"Every one of us had unfortunate things happen when our powers first awakened. Some of us made poor choices… or we overreacted to things," she paused, considering her own youth. "I made some poor choices of my own, before I came to this country. Some involved my powers, some involved the position I held with the tribe I lived among. There are things that I regret."

"Dere was a man, he said he could help wi' t'ings blowin' up. Remy didn' know who he was, how bad he was. Remy didn' know until it was too late… an' then dere was no way out. Didn' see any way out but dyin', an' no guarantee dat would work," Remy admitted, his eyes downcast.

"You didn't know," she repeated.

"Remy should have known. Should never have got involved wit' dat man, should have known he trouble from de start," Remy slumped, his thumbs hooked into the belt loops of his jeans.

"An error in judgment," she touched his cheek, feeling pain when he flinched.

"You made a mistake, my brother. Everyone does, from time to time. You have survived, and learned from it, have you not?"

"Remy survived," he paused, and looked up, meeting her eyes. "Some of de people not so fortunate. People died because Remy trusted de wrong man."

For a moment, Ororo wasn't certain if she could keep breathing. Remy had so much pain in his eyes when he spoke, the memories alone tormenting him.

"He said he could help me. Fix me," Remy made a noise that wasn't quite a laugh or a sob. "Said he could make me better, an' all Remy needed to do was a couple small errands…"

"How old were you?" Her mind spun, screaming that someone had hurt her brother, wanting to know who had done this so that she could send down the wrath of the heavens upon their head, wanting to somehow take Remy away to make everything better… and knowing that while she might be able to help him heal, nothing could change what had happened. Nothing could undo what had been done to him.

"Jus' past fifteen. T'ought I knew everythin' back den," Remy's words were low, bitter with remembered pain and shame.

"You should not torture yourself for the rest of your life because you were not as wise at fifteen as you thought," she whispered. "Heavens know how much of a fool I was at fifteen. I wanted to make my village an oasis and marry the king of W'Kanda. The weather would always be perfect – I would see to that – and we would never argue, because everything would always be wonderful. Having a strong, powerful husband would make everything else fall into place, and we would have fine strong sons and lovely daughters. There would be no poverty, because the crops would always be plentiful, there would be no sickness… because the sickness that I had seen before came from poor food or bad water."

"Don' sound like such a bad dream for the future," Remy mused. "Why you call a dream like dat foolish?"

"I was tall, flat as a board, with funny white hair. We lived hundreds of miles from W'Kanda, in a little village with nothing to recommend it to others. There was nothing that would draw the attention of a good an honorable man to me, let alone a king. And do I need to go into the part where it takes more than a teenagers dream to make a marriage work, let alone wonderful healthy children? Or the many ways for illness that have nothing to do with food or water?" She didn't quite manage a smile. "Parts of it were good, and parts of it were the idealistic, incomplete dreams of someone who didn't know enough about life."

"D'you still want dat dream?" Remy asked.

"Oh, I'd still like to find a strong, handsome man to marry, still like strong, lovely children to raise and cherish. But I don't think I'd like to marry a king, or the leader of a nation. I want someone who would have time for his family. And while I could help with the local crops and weather, there are many things that I could not prevent or fix," she sighed, not ready to admit out loud that her dreams of a possible husband had taken a new face. Not simply no longer the face of the king of W'Kanda, but a specific someone.

"You find dat strong man and have pretty babies, Remy be their fav'rite uncle an' spoil dem rotten?" he gave a tiny smile, more of a warming of the eyes and a twitch of his lips than anything else.

"Maybe," she smiled. "But it takes more than my deciding that someone is appealing and would make a good husband and father. He would have a little to say about the situation. Perhaps you should find a sweet girl and settle down in a house filled with spices and laughter, and I will be your children's favorite aunt?"

For a while, Remy just stood there, leaning just a bit against her hand. "Maybe dat not a bad idea, Stormy. Maybe it time to enjoy life again, stop paying for old sins."

"If I promise to be open to the possibility of a fine, strong husband, will you consider being open to the chance of a sweet girl? Someone to make you happy," she tried to keep from pleading.

"If dere a girl for Remy, she goin' to need a bit of spice to her," he warned.

"And a good dose of sense and a strong will, or else you'll run all over her," she smiled at him. "She'll also need to be able to eat spicy food."

"Girl like dat be hard to find," Remy murmured. "But maybe it be worth taking time to look."

"What more could I ask of you?" she smiled at him. Heaven knew that it wasn't easy to find a good mate, but she was absolutely certain that Rogue and Remy would not be a good match. The sooner he admitted it and started looking for someone that he could be happy with, the better. "Of course, I mean it about being your children's favorite aunt."

Remy chuckled, "Don' be t'rowin' Remy down de aisle jus' yet! An' babies be even further away."

"One step at a time, I suppose," she reached up, ruffling his hair.

End Old Sins.


End file.
